Knowledge is a burden, regardless of what you know. Basic things you know are light, almost non existent weights you’re used to carrying, but when something huge, uncommon, and unexpected occurs, a new, much heavier, weight is added. These weights stay with you your whole life, though you may become accustomed to them and they’ll feel a bit lighter. I am already carrying a few of these weights, and one of them is the knowledge of having a grandfather who is deteriorating from Alzheimer’s disease. I started to pay attention when I was about seven. He had just switched to a new medication that slowed down the progression of his disease. The downside of the medication was that it made him extremely reclusive, and he would sit in his recliner and read from dawn till dusk, pausing only to eat and use the restroom. This part is what occurred before I was born and I got this information from my grandmother. He began to feel the effects of Alzheimer’s when he was around the age of fifty. He had trouble remembering things and had to pause mid-sentence to think about the word, phrase, or reference. This made difficult and embarrassing. He stopped going to parties and social events because his trouble with speaking hurt his pride which he had obtained from serving in Afghanistan multiple times over the course of about two and a half decades. According to his doctor, the lack of mental stimulation only increased the progression of the disease. Over the next twenty years, he continued to succumb to Alzheimer's at a relatively slow rate. During that time, he lost a lot, including his go-getter attitude, alertness, sense of humor, ability to drive, and social demeanor. When I was about five years old, he would let me and my brother wrestle with him and hang on him as he read us books. In 2014, he switch medications once again, this one made to bring back his personality. According to my mom, it was a huge improvement, but he was still far from his old self. To me, he was a billion times better, because I only knew him when he was a good ways into the disease. I clearly remember one time I went out to visit, I was able to sit down and play a game of Monopoly with him. I didn't understand the significance of this at the time, but apparently it was amazing he was able to play ten minutes, let alone a whole game. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, and my mom and grandmother were brought to tears. Last year, he was told the personality restoration meds were damaging his kidneys, so he had to be taken off of them. In January of this year, he began to hear voices, have minor hallucinations, and the occasional blackout. My grandmother became even more worried. On march twenty third, the worst happened. My grandfather had previously been hearing voices whispering to him that my grandmother was an imposter, and that she had captured his wife (my grandmother). He saw her leave the house every other day, which added to his false suspicion. He grabbed my grandmother and started yelling at her, commanding her to tell him where she put his wife. After this traumatic experience, my grandmother had him hospitalized, for she knew her safety was in jeopardy. A few days later, I alone took a week off of everything to fly out to good old Tennessee to help my grandmother move my grandfather into an assisted living home. The day I arrived, I went to see him in the hospital. He recognized me right away, which was nice, but when we were talking, he would always be trying to steer the conversation towards getting home. He was also drugged so he would be easier for the staff to manage, so our talk was poor quality. The next four days were consumed by driving, looking at places for him to stay, and my grandmother telling me I didn't get enough to eat and trying to get me to eat a lot. Once we decided on one that seemed nice, we moved his stuff in. That gave us half a day to relax, because the next day we both were flying back to California together. He fit nicely for the first months, then incidents began to occur. One day he took a cell phone and tried taking my grandmother off of the bank accounts. Another day he was found with screwdrivers on his bed and a tape measure at his window. Then he tried making a run for it into the enclosed area, but got disoriented and went back to his room. Lastly, he locked himself in his room and was trying to pry up the floorboards with a flathead he stole from a locked toolshed. He had pinched the key earlier in the day. In July, Ian flew out on his own to move him to another facility, this one much closer to my grandmother's house. My brother flew home, with another seemingly successful trip complete. As it turns out, this place didn't lock their doors due to policy, and he made a few runs. They then had to hunt him down outside. If it weren't my family, it would be almost comical. During this time, my grandfather had been rapidly deteriorating, losing the ability to form sentences, think clearly, and eventually talk and understand English by the time my mom went out in early September. She mainly went out as a moral support for my grandmother, because her beloved cat of 18 years had sadly passed away. She spent most of here time helping around the house and with my grandfather so she could get a break from all of the stress and try to relax a bit. She told me that one day she went to see my grandfather, he turned to a random person, said “railroad signs”, and the other person simply looked at him for a few seconds and then said “carpenters shop” and they both broke out in laughter. When she came back, my grandmother was in a much better condition. Last month, the VA finally returned a report acknowledging that my grandfather was over 60% disabled from the wars and was admitted into a government operated facility that was free and was secured so escape and mishaps wouldn't be possible. With this, the enormous weight of him possibly being was lifted and we all were able to relax. He currently isn't talking and can't remember anyone anymore. This knowledge has taught me things that may eventually help me through possible crises further on in my life. Though this knowledge is a heavy burden, it is one I am forced to carry and willing to remember for the rest of my life.
I started to pay attention when I was about seven. He had just switched to a new medication that slowed down the progression of his disease. The downside of the medication was that it made him extremely reclusive, and he would sit in his recliner and read from dawn till dusk, pausing only to eat and use the restroom.
This part is what occurred before I was born and I got this information from my grandmother. He began to feel the effects of Alzheimer’s when he was around the age of fifty. He had trouble remembering things and had to pause mid-sentence to think about the word, phrase, or reference. This made difficult and embarrassing. He stopped going to parties and social events because his trouble with speaking hurt his pride which he had obtained from serving in Afghanistan multiple times over the course of about two and a half decades. According to his doctor, the lack of mental stimulation only increased the progression of the disease.
Over the next twenty years, he continued to succumb to Alzheimer's at a relatively slow rate. During that time, he lost a lot, including his go-getter attitude, alertness, sense of humor, ability to drive, and social demeanor. When I was about five years old, he would let me and my brother wrestle with him and hang on him as he read us books.
In 2014, he switch medications once again, this one made to bring back his personality. According to my mom, it was a huge improvement, but he was still far from his old self. To me, he was a billion times better, because I only knew him when he was a good ways into the disease. I clearly remember one time I went out to visit, I was able to sit down and play a game of Monopoly with him. I didn't understand the significance of this at the time, but apparently it was amazing he was able to play ten minutes, let alone a whole game. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, and my mom and grandmother were brought to tears.
Last year, he was told the personality restoration meds were damaging his kidneys, so he had to be taken off of them. In January of this year, he began to hear voices, have minor hallucinations, and the occasional blackout. My grandmother became even more worried. On march twenty third, the worst happened. My grandfather had previously been hearing voices whispering to him that my grandmother was an imposter, and that she had captured his wife (my grandmother). He saw her leave the house every other day, which added to his false suspicion. He grabbed my grandmother and started yelling at her, commanding her to tell him where she put his wife. After this traumatic experience, my grandmother had him hospitalized, for she knew her safety was in jeopardy.
A few days later, I alone took a week off of everything to fly out to good old Tennessee to help my grandmother move my grandfather into an assisted living home. The day I arrived, I went to see him in the hospital. He recognized me right away, which was nice, but when we were talking, he would always be trying to steer the conversation towards getting home. He was also drugged so he would be easier for the staff to manage, so our talk was poor quality. The next four days were consumed by driving, looking at places for him to stay, and my grandmother telling me I didn't get enough to eat and trying to get me to eat a lot. Once we decided on one that seemed nice, we moved his stuff in. That gave us half a day to relax, because the next day we both were flying back to California together. He fit nicely for the first months, then incidents began to occur. One day he took a cell phone and tried taking my grandmother off of the bank accounts. Another day he was found with screwdrivers on his bed and a tape measure at his window. Then he tried making a run for it into the enclosed area, but got disoriented and went back to his room. Lastly, he locked himself in his room and was trying to pry up the floorboards with a flathead he stole from a locked toolshed. He had pinched the key earlier in the day. In July, Ian flew out on his own to move him to another facility, this one much closer to my grandmother's house. My brother flew home, with another seemingly successful trip complete. As it turns out, this place didn't lock their doors due to policy, and he made a few runs. They then had to hunt him down outside. If it weren't my family, it would be almost comical.
During this time, my grandfather had been rapidly deteriorating, losing the ability to form sentences, think clearly, and eventually talk and understand English by the time my mom went out in early September. She mainly went out as a moral support for my grandmother, because her beloved cat of 18 years had sadly passed away. She spent most of here time helping around the house and with my grandfather so she could get a break from all of the stress and try to relax a bit. She told me that one day she went to see my grandfather, he turned to a random person, said “railroad signs”, and the other person simply looked at him for a few seconds and then said “carpenters shop” and they both broke out in laughter. When she came back, my grandmother was in a much better condition. Last month, the VA finally returned a report acknowledging that my grandfather was over 60% disabled from the wars and was admitted into a government operated facility that was free and was secured so escape and mishaps wouldn't be possible. With this, the enormous weight of him possibly being was lifted and we all were able to relax. He currently isn't talking and can't remember anyone anymore.
This knowledge has taught me things that may eventually help me through possible crises further on in my life. Though this knowledge is a heavy burden, it is one I am forced to carry and willing to remember for the rest of my life.